God, I’m So Mad at You

I know this is a weird thing to write about. But as I was driving my sons to school, the question just popped into my mind out of nowhere—Why do we all get mad at God? Is there anyone who hasn’t at one time or another?

I know I have.

I’ve said it under my breath in frustration. I’ve screamed it in the middle of heartbreak. I’ve cried it in the dark, my chest tight with sorrow. Where were You? Why didn’t You stop this? I’ve sat in church, arms crossed, barely singing, because my heart was too hurt to praise. I’ve walked through life with wounds that never quite healed, feeling abandoned even when I knew better.

We’ve all heard unbelievers ask the big questions, throwing out, Where was God in this? Why does He allow this? Why did He take this person? And usually, I think, Why are they so mad at a God they don’t believe in? But for Christians… we don’t get out of this either.

Because we do believe. And that’s exactly why it hurts so much. We know He’s in control. We trust Him. We cry out to Him, expect Him to move, wait for the miracle, believe He’ll come through—and then sometimes, He doesn’t. Or at least, not in the way we desperately hoped He would. And that stings. It stings when the healing doesn’t come. It stings when the prayers feel like they hit the ceiling. It stings when we see others living the life we begged Him for. And instead of admitting the hurt, we turn it into frustration, into resentment, into bitterness, because being mad feels easier than feeling broken.

And as I was thinking about all this, I couldn’t help but wonder—How does that feel to Him?

As a mother, I know it would hurt me beyond words if my children blamed me every time something didn’t go their way. If they looked at me with disappointment, frustration, or even fury when I didn’t step in the way they thought I should. If they doubted my love, my intentions, my heart—when all I’ve ever done is love them with everything in me. And yet, I’ve done that very thing to God. Maybe you have too.

I’ve realized that sometimes when I’m mad at God, I’m really just grieving. I’m just hurting. I’m just standing in the wreckage of something I thought He would prevent, wondering how to move forward. And maybe like me, you’ve been in those moments of being mad, but you’ve also repented and apologized, because deep down, you know He is the author of our lives. His ways are higher. His plans are bigger. His path is perfect. And one day, when we stand with Him, we will truly understand.

I used to think being mad at God was dangerous, like I was crossing some kind of line, like He’d turn away from me if I wasn’t careful.

Here’s the thing… God is not fragile. He does not flinch at our questions. He does not turn away when we come to Him, even with clenched fists and tears in our eyes. He is still near. Still listening. Still loving.

If you’re in that place right now, if you feel like you’re barely holding onto your faith, if you’re questioning why He allowed something so painful—just know that He isn’t afraid of your questions. He isn’t waiting for you to get yourself together before you come to Him.

He is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18).

He is near to the weary (Matthew 11:28).

His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23).

Lovely, I don’t know what you may be walking through or what you’ve already had to carry. If you’ve been mad at God, that’s okay. He can handle it. But maybe—just maybe—taking a closer look and realizing that it’s actually grief in disguise is the real turning point. Maybe the anger isn’t really anger at all. Maybe it’s sorrow, disappointment, heartbreak, and you just don’t know what else to do with it.

And if that’s the case, then maybe instead of saying “God, I’m mad at You,” it’s time to say, “God, I’m hurting, and I really need You to help me with this.”

Because He will. He always will. And He’s not letting go of you now.

Question: Has there been a time when you were mad at God, but when you took a closer look, you realized it was really grief? I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories.

Love, Sarah xx.

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